


Shine

by greenergrass



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode: s02e06 Never Been Kissed, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 21:05:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16071335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenergrass/pseuds/greenergrass
Summary: An assembly, a boy, a song. A metaphor that just won’t die.———He sings and sings and sings, a love song for a boy who needs a friend.The problem, of course, is that this boy—Kurt—is not an imaginary middle schooler in need of guidance.And Blaine is not—nor has he ever been—a lighthouse.





	Shine

It never would have happened this way if not for first period assembly. 

(I. Clarifications to the Recent Policy Change Regarding the Demerit System, II. Scheduled Construction of the Outdoor Pavilion and Resulting Athletic Field Closures, III. Available Opportunities to Fulfill Mandatory Community Service Credit Requirements)

It never would have happened this way if not for two seniors, a metaphor, and an impassioned speech about the Dalton/Crawford mentorship program.

If not for words like _adrift_ and _afloat_ , and Blaine—

Blaine is suddenly inspired. Because _yes_. Yes, Blaine does want to be someone’s lighthouse. 

So when he sees a boy on the staircase—and he’s late, now, by more than the acceptable thirty seconds or so—but when he _hears_ this boy, somehow wary and bold in the same breath, trying to blend but still shining like a beacon—

He can’t help himself. 

He reaches out. Because he is a buoy, a lifeline; he is any number of nautical implements designed to tow this boy to safety. 

(There was a theme this morning. He’s still shaking it off.)

He takes a shortcut that in no way reduces his time spent tethered to this boy, but it allows him to make the kind of entrance—specifically, through the side door that generally remains closed—that might just convince the council that he wasn’t really late at all. 

And then he sings. 

He sings to a boy who needs a song—who so clearly (for reasons unknown, but _so clearly_ ) needs this song, and he sings with all the conviction he possesses because he knows, somehow, that he can be the foghorn in this boy’s darkness.

He sings and sings and sings, a love song for a boy who needs a friend. 

The problem, of course, is that this boy—Kurt—is not an imaginary middle schooler in need of guidance. 

And Blaine is not—nor has he ever been—a lighthouse. 

Blaine is just a boy. He’s just a boy who ran away when he could have shined a light—ran to safety and left who knows how many others to wash up on the rocks in his wake because he didn’t have it in him to be brave. 

And now he has these advantages—advantages that not everyone has—like a modest collection of unflattering blazers, a safe place to indulge in frivolous activities (such as dancing on antique furniture and singing love songs at other boys) and a convenient way of forgetting, from time to time, that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. 

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. 

The advice he feels genuinely qualified to give is, _yes, I know you want to be a drummer, but you’ll regret it if you don’t stick with the piano lessons, too_. It’s _no, you won’t be able to finish all of your summer reading in the last weekend of August, so don’t even try it_.

But Kurt has a single tear rolling down his cheek and a distressingly familiar hell awaiting his return, and Blaine is stripped of all his certainty.

_(Trust me, just skip the parts that deal with the dissection of the whale.)_

He sees things in Kurt. 

He sees things—not because he’s particularly observant—but because Kurt just _shines_. And Blaine knows (without knowing) that Kurt is steadfast and independent—confident, in himself, if not the world around him. 

Blaine is none of those things, not in this moment. 

Because he is a boy who knows nothing other than how to hit rock bottom. And how to let them win.

How to run away and don’t ever look back _(don’t ever look back)_.

And he doesn’t—not now—because behind him lies an ugly truth that he’s not prepared to share, not while Kurt is hurting, yes, but still outwardly unblemished. He can’t be the one to tell Kurt that rock bottom is well below him still, and it is jagged, and it is sharp, and it scars. 

So he breathes in. And out. And he tells his story a different way instead. 

He spins his regrets into a song of courage and hope. 

Because as much as he knows that he will never truly be a lighthouse, he also knows, somehow, that Kurt is too strong to be genuinely adrift.

So maybe—despite his shortcomings, despite his genuine lack of expertise—

Maybe he can help.

**Author's Note:**

> Just doing my part to reconcile confident Blaine with insecure Blaine. I feel better now. :)


End file.
